


December 31st, 2040

by twincest



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor tries alcohol for Androids, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Marijuana, Oneshot, Reader is a detective, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twincest/pseuds/twincest
Summary: This would be Connor’s third time attending the New Years Eve gathering for the Detroit PD, and this year it was taking place at a new restaurant called The Golden Calf at the recommendation of one of the officers that had thrown a birthday party there a few weeks back.Even though he’d insisted each year that he didn’t mind working on the holiday, Hank had twice now all but dragged him out for the celebrations. But this time he didn’t require any convincing. Fowler had ordered him and his partner to partake in the festivities to get their minds off of the case, much to the detective’s chagrin.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & Reader, Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s), Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	December 31st, 2040

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years to everyone and good riddance to 2020~ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))  
> Here's something more lighthearted than last time to sooth the skin-scorching burn of this entire year 
> 
> The detective is self-insertable, but here's the facts you need to know about her for this fic: she loves Androids and usually wears a pair of smart glasses called Cyberlife Roboshields (TM).  
> She and Connor are paired together to solve a string of murders.  
> You can learn more about her and see her "canon" design [here](https://detective-chan.carrd.co/) if you're interested!
> 
> (not beta'd, please excuse any typos!)

December 31st, 2040

11:00PM

This would be Connor’s third time attending the New Years Eve gathering for the Detroit PD, and this year it was taking place at a new restaurant called The Golden Calf at the recommendation of one of the officers that had thrown a birthday party there a few weeks back. 

Even though he’d insisted each year that he didn’t mind working on the holiday, Hank had twice now all but dragged him out for the celebrations. But this time he didn’t require any convincing. Fowler had ordered him and his partner to partake in the festivities to get their minds off of the case, much to the detective’s chagrin. 

“You  _ both  _ need a break,” he’d said, which was him softening the blow that they’d failed to get anymore leads in the past week and the latest murder was going cold.

As Connor stepped out of the taxi, he found the detective waiting for him outside of the entrance with fresh snow peppered across the top of her head. To his surprise, she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses (or rather, they’d likely been confiscated in a backwards effort to get her to focus on actually socializing) and hadn’t braided her hair. She greeted him with a small smile and a wave.    
Without the cloak of her shades, he could see the outline of dark circles underneath her eyes, masked by eyeliner that she’d already smeared.

“There you are!” She said, straining her voice above the pop music blaring from the speakers. 

“Here I am.”

She opened the door for him and shook her head, laughing grimly under her breath. “I can’t believe we got roped into this.”   
It was no surprise that the detective wasn’t feeling favorable towards this outcome. She didn’t like to drink and she didn’t enjoy loud noises or crowds of people. While the captain’s intentions were well, Connor wasn’t sure that coming out tonight would actually help her relax.    
It would be an added challenge managing his own socializing tonight, but a protocol prompted him to ensure that the night would end on a positive note for her. 

The inside was packed with people, the DPD having combined three tables in the corner and a screen on each wall broadcasting New Year's countdowns from different news stations across the country. There was the lingering scent of alcohol, grease from the fried food being served, and an amalgamation of mixed laughter from every side clashing with the music. The phrase humans might use is, “so loud you can’t hear yourself think”. 

Hank waved over at them and said (from reading his lips), “Connor, you late bastard! Get over here!”

The detective quickly touched his arm to grab his attention first. She stood on her tiptoes and said into his ear, “hey before we go over there I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

She lowered her voice, although it was unnecessary. He heard her swallow.

“Listen, uh, earlier. Tina point blank asked me if we were together. I told her no because I don’t think we should tell people until the case is over. So, uh, if anyone asks...”

“Understood. Was anyone else present for the conversation?” 

The detective shook her head. “No. She cornered me in the bathroom! Honestly, this is why I hate public restrooms…and then she asked if I was hiding out in there! I totally wasn’t!”

Chances are that she was, in fact, hiding out in the bathroom but there was no benefit to pointing that out.

“Don’t worry,” Connor assured her. “I’m better at lying than you.”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm. “Tsch!” 

There were too many conversations going on at once for Connor to participate in all of them--the state of sports now that Android and human teams were each in their own leagues, a story about ticketing a man for parking his Android horse in a garage, a new reality show called  _ Human Eye for the Android Guy _ \--but the table was certainly lively and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.   
Next to him, the detective stared off into space with her head resting against the palm of her hand. Even without her glasses, her mind was elsewhere.    
Hank was on the seventh drink he’d had since Connor’s arrival when he decided, “Connor you  _ have  _ to try one of those new, uh--uh, what the fuck do they call it?”

Someone across the table shouted, “Oceanwater 313!”

“Oceanwater?” Connor repeated, searching the subject in his peripheral. Oh,  _ that _ . “Alcohol for androids?”

“Yeah!” Hank waved over at the waitress and pointed to Connor. “Three Oceanwater 313s for this guy!”

The idea of drinking was foreign. It was easy to understand what happened to  _ humans  _ when they were drunk, he’d certainly witnessed it enough times with Hank, their brains slowing and judgement slipping. But for Androids?

Skimming reviews indicated that the sensations under the influence of Oceanwater were strikingly similar. Executive impairment, slurred speech, tendencies to take higher risks…

“I don’t know,” Connor said carefully, but not loudly enough for Hank to hear--or maybe he was being ignored. 

The detective looked at him, amused. “Feeling peer pressure?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I just don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.”

There were plenty of reasons why he felt uneasy about becoming inebriated: primarily, he didn’t want to be compromised should an emergency occur. They were in a restaurant packed to the brim and even with a couple of officers at the table plainly in uniform, who was to say that a fight wouldn’t break out among some of the patrons?   
While the current risk assessment was reasonably low, he didn’t want to dismiss the possibility of the unknown. Not knowing how he’d  _ feel  _ when drunk, being unable to predict his own processes-- _ that _ was at the core of his hesitation, he realized, and he was prompting himself to search for reasons not to drink. 

Across the table, Chris shouted, “Connor is gonna drink?!”    
“Yeah,” Hank shouted back. “He’s gonna try that Android alcohol shit!”   
Connor opened his mouth to say, “I really don’t know, Hank” but a chain reaction had already been set into motion and all eyes were on him now. 

“Connor is gonna drink?”

“Yeah, go Connor!”

“Androids have alcohol now?”

“Fucking technology, I tell ya!” 

The detective rocked in her seat and whispered to Connor. “You don’t have to, really…” 

The waitress returned, setting down three shot glasses in front of Connor to the cheer of everyone else. If he didn’t comply with their expectations it’d only dampen the mood. 

This was. Uncomfortable. 

He stared down at the liquid, a light blue concoction that carried a scent similar to alcohol but dulled down. According to his searches, an average shot of Oceanwater 313 would contain the equivalent to 1.5 oz of 40 proof spirits and each shot would take roughly an hour to metabolize if he drank nothing else. 

He wasn’t sure if Androids could develop “tolerance” to Oceanwater the same way that humans could towards alcohol, but his tolerance would be at zero regardless and there was a high chance he’d begin feeling the effects within a matter of minutes. 

“You just tip it!” Hank encouraged him, taking a shot of his own across the table to demonstrate, as if Connor was unaware. “Like that!” 

“Yeah, like that!” 

“Just tip it!”

“Chug!” 

The detective watched, unsure if he was actually going to do this. “Y’know--”

Connor disabled his taste receptors and downed the first shot, resulting in a small series of applause around the table. 

A chant of, “chug! Chug! Chug!” picked up as he took the second, then the third, and then the laughter was overwhelming. He could hear glasses clinking together in celebration of his participation. 

Hank was clapping drunkenly. “Yeah, Connor! That’s my boy!”

Connor smiled wryly and set the glasses aside. He knew that he should prepare for the onslaught of questions that would be launched at him any minute now, asking him if he felt drunk yet, but he was too distracted by a hazy sensation cloaking over him. 

The detective sneered. “I thought you  _ weren’t  _ feeling peer pressure?”

“I wasn’t,” Connor insisted, surprised at how it was already difficult to focus on speaking above the noise. “There simply wouldn’t have been a benefit to...lowering the morale.” 

“Uh-huh.”

Fifteen minutes in and the effects were unlike anything Connor could have prepared for. There was the faintest hint of static snow in his vision, or maybe he was imagining it, and the protocols in his priority queue were jumbled as if they’d been encrypted.    
What was he supposed to be doing again? 

Speaking took a conscious effort. It was becoming more and more difficult to focus on one subject at a time with so much noise attempting to pull his attention in all directions. If he allowed himself to unfocus, all of the sounds would jumble together into an incomprehensible sea of mumbling. 

When asked how he felt, he simply replied, “drunk, I think” which the others found to be humorous. 

He was unsure if he enjoyed this numbing sensation. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant and his worries from before were so easy to dismiss now--a fight breaking out? Wasn’t happening, so it was irrelevant to the present reality. 

At the very least, now he was better equipped with an empathetic understanding as to why humans could grow so attached to drinking. There persisted an awareness in the back of his mind that his functions were compromised, that he didn’t feel  _ normal _ , but wasn’t that the point?

Something next to him moved, a chair leg screeching across the floor. The detective was standing up. Where was she going?

There was a chance she might not return, slim as it may be, but that outcome took priority in the forefront of his mind. Without his usual cautionary protocols to assure he didn’t arouse suspicion, he lightly grabbed her arm and said, “Detective, where are you going?”

The concerned cadence of his voice surprised him. His mouth was dry (how could Androids get dry mouth? Was it an intentional effect of the Oceanwater to simulate the sensation humans feel when dehydrated from drinking?). 

Her eyes widened and she quickly glanced over at the others in fear that his touching her would garner unwanted attention. She licked her lips. “I’m just going to get myself something and, um, I figured maybe we could go up to the roof so you could get some fresh air? If you wanna?”

“Oh.”

She shyly peeled his hand from her arm, giving it a secret squeeze underneath the table. “I wanna watch the fireworks. I mean. If it’s okay with you?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

The detective giggled, covering her mouth and shaking her head.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I’ll tell you in a minute.” 

“But you just said it was nothing?”

She sidestepped into the cluster of bodies, vanishing towards the bar, and Connor turned his attention back to the table. At some point the empty shot glasses had been removed and he’d only just now noticed.    
There was a conversation about the upcoming new model of a VR headset, the Virtua Surfer, but just as he’d fetched the information on the specs (the main upgrade was only 30 more gigabytes of VRAM compared to the older model and some hardware components being minimized for a slimmer design) the subject had shifted to a debate about the longevity of new cartridges. With his processes slowed down and a delay on the information he was searching, Connor was having difficulty finding the right words to participate. And now he was wondering if anyone had noticed he wasn’t saying much since drinking. 

No. They were too involved with one another.

“Connor, you okay?” Hank called out to him, concerned. “A little too much for your first drink?”

He’d miscalculated. 

“I’m fine, Hank.” He realized that his LED was yellow and wasn’t sure how long it had been like that. “I’m just waiting on the detective to get back and then I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Hank’s eyebrows rose with an unspoken awareness. “Oh, okay. Sorry if it was too much.”

‘No, I’m fine.”

“Speak of the devil!”

The detective returned, one hand in her pocket and the other holding a pouch of Thirium 313. She nodded towards the stairs on the other side of the room.

The cold winter breeze had never been such a relief.

Only a few other people had ventured up to brave the elements with the snow falling even harder than earlier and the detective was already shivering next to him as they settled against the balcony in a space by themselves. 

She handed him the pouch. “Here, you’ll sober up a little faster.” 

“Thanks.” Connor unscrewed the cap and drank it so quickly that he nearly choked, a trickle of blue streaming down his chin. As the liquid settled into his intestinal biocomponents, he idly stared out at the city lights and waited for the sobering effect to run its course. “Forgive me, I’ve never been so...sloppy.”

The detective peeked over her shoulder, then reached up to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of her coat. “Nah. It’s cute.” 

She leaned back against the railing to stare at him with her soft blue eyes, rocking her head back and forth. “Hmm…”

“So, Detective, what was it you were going to tell me?”

“Huh?”

“Back inside, you were laughing and said you’d tell me in a minute?”

“Oh!” She snickered, moving closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest. “It’s what I just told you, that it’s cute seeing you drunk.”

He held her and sighed softly, relaxing into the embrace. His senses were beginning to return to normal, notably fast considering that humans would take hours to sober up even with the assistance of drinking water.    
Perhaps “drinking” again wouldn’t be so undesirable with the knowledge that he could reverse the effects so easily. 

With the detective right here, the priority protocol he’d stored away earlier returned and reminded him that he wanted to make sure the night was a positive experience for her.

Connor pet her head, combing his fingers through the curls in her hair and separating them. 

“Detective, I didn’t get the chance to tell you before but you look beautiful tonight.”

She squeaked and hugged him harder. “Th-thanks…” 

Her heart rate increased and her face was blushing as she looked up at him. “I’m glad we came out tonight, after all.”

“Even though you’re freezing and don’t have your glasses?”

“Y-Yeah, y’know, this is kinda romantic. The snow. Fireworks soon. Starting a new year with you...” 

He gently dusted the white from the top of her head. Romantic? He could be romantic.

“Here.” He lifted her up by the armpits like a cat and set her up on the railing, careful that his grip was secure enough that she wouldn’t fall.

“Heh.” The detective tugged at his tie playfully. “You look handsome tonight yourself.”

With one arm wrapped around her waist, Connor tilted her chin up with his index finger and kissed her lips. She relaxed into him, mouth opening and her tongue all too eager to lap against his. Her back arched, her breasts rubbed against him through the thick confines of her coat. 

But something was...off. 

He pulled his head away from her suddenly.

“What is it?” She asked, panting. 

“I forgot to re-enable my taste sensors. There.”

He kissed her again, this time to full effect, savoring the unique flavor of her saliva and swallowing it into himself. He wondered sometimes if he had a unique taste to her, as well, considering that she couldn’t get enough of smacking their lips together. 

The detective rested her arms around his neck, inhaling sharply as their teeth clicked against each other. 

There was the distinct scent of her sex now, already soaking her panties and making Connor uncomfortably hard. They couldn’t...not here. 

He softly broke the kiss this time, whispering, “we’ll finish later.”

“O-Okay.” She took a few moments to collect herself as he set her back to the ground and they shared a cautionary glance around the roof to assure that no one from the department had witnessed their making out. 

The detective sighed dreamily and hugged his arm in a comfortable silence. 

A few minutes later and the fireworks were erupting into the sky, explosion after explosion of color decorating the night behind the thickening flurry. 

It was exactly midnight now and the year had rolled into 2041. 

“Oh, yeah.” She pulled out a thin package from her pocket. “You don’t mind, right?”

In her hand was a freshly rolled blunt that she’d purchased from the bar. She mischievously grinned, looking away with a hint of guilt. “It’s New Years so...it’s a special occasion…”

Connor shook his head. “You’re so ridiculous.” 

“I knooooow….but hey, you got to get drunk so it’s only fair!” 

She was already lighting it up, the strong aroma drifting into the air. She took a hit, exhaling and coughing harshly into her forearm. 

He patted her back consolingly. “Detective…”

“Y-Y’know,” she said, voice strained and tears streaming down her cheeks. “I wonder if you’ll ever be able to experience smoking weed...if Androids can drink now…”

“Maybe. I certainly wouldn’t enjoy the coughing fits.” But there was a part of him that was curious as to the experience. He’d be able to understand better why the detective enjoyed marijuana so much if he could properly empathize. 

“Hm?” She tilted her head, flicking the ashes into the wind. “You’re telling me you couldn’t just disable your ability to cough like you turned off your sense of taste?”

“Perhaps I could.” He hadn’t thought about it. The respiratory system for Androids operated much differently than human lungs, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment with the mundane details. With how much she loved Androids, it was likely she already knew.

The detective inhaled another lungful, eyeing him contemplatively. 

“What?” He asked innocently. 

“Turning off your taste buds...” She shook her head. “That’s cheating, by the way.”

Should the time come, he filed away a prompt to remind himself that losing his breathing functions was to be a valued factor in getting high. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you had fun! ^u^  
> Please look forward to the multi-chaptered fic revolving around the Dahlia 2 murders soon! (・∀・)


End file.
